


of bathtubs and weddings

by orphan_account



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Big bathtubs, Crushes, Emily Prentiss Needs a Hug, F/F, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rossi's mansion, Season/Series 07, Spencer gives her the hug, Undealt with Trauma, where can i buy a tall nice nerd to help me with my trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:28:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25120897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A little advice- if you ever find yourself suffering from the repercussions of your trauma at the hands of your serial killer ex boy-friend, find yourself a tall nerd to help you through it.
Relationships: Jennifer "JJ" Jareau/Emily Prentiss, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau/William LaMontagne Jr.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 66





	of bathtubs and weddings

**Author's Note:**

> just a warning- there is only mentions of jemily. sorry ladies but thats not the storyline for this one :(

“...Holy shit.” 

Emily all too well knew the high profile life. As the daughter of a US Ambassador, the countless hours of learning proper etiquette, sitting like a supposed ‘lady’ and posture lessons could never fade from her muscle memory. She is more than well-acquainted with the life of the upper-middle class. But this bathroom.. it was unlike anything she had ever seen- no, even imagined before. She flicked on the lights, the led lights shining up a pale yellow. But the good kind. Most likely. There was a large glass shower- built for two, Rossi you dog- in one corner, and an even larger basin for baths in the other. Three sinks placed on a marble countertop, walls lined with scented french perfumes and hair products. Tall beige walls with a white accent, accompanied by a vaulted ceiling. Who the hell puts a vaulted ceiling in a bathroom? 

At this point, he was just showing off. 

She stumbled barefoot to the Olympic sized bathtub as she had knocked off her shoes somewhere while dancing, and climbed in, careful to hold her glass of Chardonnay high enough so it wouldn’t spill onto her dress. 

Ugh, the dress. She can’t believe Penelope let her leave the house wearing the horrid thing. Fucking fake friends. 

She sighed, setting down the glass next to her on the rim of the tub. She let her legs stretch out, and cracked her knuckles in front of her as she leaned back in the tub. Long day, Longer week, and possibly the longest wedding she had ever been to. 

She has never understood the appeal of marriage. Despite considering it a patriarchal practice that really has no place in today’s world, just the thought of being tied down is suffocating. ‘The rest of our lives’. Give her a damn break. More like until one of them decides they have had enough of the other. 

But she’s happy for Will and JJ! She for sure is. Will is a good guy, and she’s had enough conversations with him to know he is interesting and nice enough to make JJ happy for the rest of her life. And she knows JJ can more than take care of herself, and enough Ladies Nights with this topic as the forefront taught her that this is not a decision she made lightly. JJ knows this is right for her- but Emily will always entertain the thought of what could have been. The long glances, the fleeting touches… and that night in Paris- but so be it. JJ made her choice, and Emily is a good friend who will support her.

Support her from Europe. 

She sinks lower into the bathtub, letting her arms move up above her to rest on the sides of the tub. She takes a slow sip of the Chardonnay and wonders what life in London will be like. She’s spent a few months there before, on assignment, but it was one of the few cities she had never really lived in.

She thought she could set down roots here. Buying a house, a steady job, and her family, the BAU. How could she leave them again? Emily wonders if it’s the same instinct that makes her straighten her spine, even when relaxing alone at home that is making her leave. She has spent almost 6 years in D.C, working at the BAU and foolishly, foolishly letting her guard down. Letting these people see the parts of her she has even hidden from herself. 

She huffs, thinking about the last time she had been somewhere so long. Probably when she was 13, living for 3 years in the United Arab Emirates. Almost 25 long years ago. 

So, she begs her mind, why must I do this? Why is every part of me screaming to leave? 

She had always had issues with staying. Leaving old girlfriends when it got too serious, backing out of leases that would require her to stay for another year before moving, never joining a team before she came here. Why did she choose here? 

Perhaps because this was a challenge for her, a team that didn’t trust her, reading the minds of fugitives she could never understand, hunting killers that she could never catch. 

Perhaps it was boredom. Traveling the world isn’t so exciting when you’ve been doing it your entire life. 

But, perhaps it was the annoyed twinkle in Hotch’s eyes when she showed up in his office 3 days after being rejected, Penelope’s sunny smile when she introduced herself to the team, the crushing relief when Gideon first told her to join them on the jet, the- 

The golden knob on the door across the room twists and a familiar mop of brown hair ducks his head in. She grins at the familiar awkward sight. Emily giggles loudly, holding up the almost empty glass. “Tell me you brought more, boy wonder.” 

Spencer closes the door behind, taking in the room around him. “Holy balls. This bathroom is bigger than my childhood home. What are you doing in the bathtub?” 

Emily pulls herself up, leaning to sit against the edge once again. “Pondering. Also wondering who the hell vaults their bathroom ceiling. What are you doing in an occupied bathroom, huh? Trying to peep?” 

Spencer steps back. “NO! No, you know I would never-”

“Relax, man.” Emily smiles. This stupid kid is still charming. “I was thinking about my life, you know? Just the chain of events that. Led me here.” 

Spencer moves to sit down on the edge of the bathtub. “Oh? Find anything interesting?”

Emily opens her mouth, to tell him about how apparently tipsy Emily likes to reflect on her commitment issues but bites back her tongue when she thinks about the premise of tonight. 

She needs to pull herself together. This is a damn happy night. Her best friend just got married and they just saved basically like, the world. Or maybe just D.C. And here she is wallowing about her stupid daddy issues and shit. Spencer probably does not want to hear it. Especially in Rossi’s glorified spa room. “Well, I found that for such a big ass bathroom, Rossi apparently couldn’t fit a goddamn toilet in here.” 

Spencer chuckled. “You’re telling me. Last time I was here I walked into three enormous closets and a laundry room before a found a place to piss. And it was a bidet!” His face darkened. “Next time I’m just going to use a tree.” 

Emily cackled. “Count me in, dude. God, sometimes I hate rich people.”

“You are rich people.”

“... Fair enough.”

Spencer looked at her face once more before shifting her legs over and settling down into the tub next to her. Now that he was right in front of her, she could see his hair was scruffy and there was an apparent flush on his face and down his neck. His tie had unraveled and his suit top was scuffed. She giggled.

“Is the great Dr. Reid tipsy at a wedding?” She gave him a pseudo-disappointed look, “How unbecoming of you.” 

“You’re tipsy too!” 

“Yeah, but people expect it of me,” she explained. “I’m usually tipsy.” 

They settle into a comfortable silence. The smell of Rossi’s expensive wine is held between them.

Spencer rolls his eyes before looking at her curiously again. “What’s up with you? Why are you being.... weird?” 

Emily looked offended. “The hell? I am not weird! You’re weird. Why are you acting weird, huh?”

“You know, just because you compartmentalize well doesn’t mean you compartmentalize compartmentalizing well,” Spencer says, stumbling over the words in a very annoying way. 

“...what?” 

“I can totally tell something is- oh shit!” He gasps and leans in closer. “Is it about JJ?” 

Emily is taken aback. “What! No! Who told you about that? There is no thing about JJ! I have, like, no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Spencer had the nerve to look smug. “There totally is! Penelope and I knew it.” He patted her leg sympathetically. “I have been there. Having a crush on JJ, I mean. It’s tough because she is literally the perfect woman, but we have to let go at some point.” 

“... I always forget how much I hate Reid that’s had alcohol.” Emily looks at him, clearly annoyed, before smirking. “I don’t still have a crush on JJ, but now I know you did.” She sticks out her tongue. “Loser.”

Spencer moves his back onto the other edge of the tub across from her. “You can keep denying it but I know something was totally there,” His eyes turn a little sad. “It’s okay that you do, you know, like her. She’s married now, but feelings don’t always fade so quickly. I’m here for you, and you can talk about it.” He gives her a grin before his eyes catch on the sink behind her. “Oh my god. Is that Ten Voss shampoo? That crap is so expensive!” 

Emily twists around, also intrigued. That shit seriously is expensive. “Isn’t that like 300$ dollars a bottle or something? And the small bottles too! What the actual hell.” 

Spencer leaps- well actually more stumbles and falls out of the tub- grabbing the shampoo and inspecting it. His mouth drops open. “Oh my god. The seal is unbroken. He’s had this since 2008- he bought it for show.”

Suddenly Emily feels unworthy of the bathroom. She thought this ugly ass expensive dress would make her more impressive in this place, but obviously, there is no impressing a Rossi Mansion. 

Spencer gingerly sets down the bottle as if it may explode if a person with a bank balance below 5,000$ were to touch it. He stumbles back and sits down on the edge of the tub in front of Emily. 

He furrowed his eyebrows before looking down, suddenly shy. The room falls quiet, the booming music background to sight in front of her. Spencer stares at the Italian tiles of the floor contemplatively, as if asking them to give him the answers to the thought he undoubtedly has floating around his head. 

He looks up suddenly, his eyes clear with resolution. She guesses the tiles answered his calls. “You know, the last time we were in this situation, it didn’t end up super great.” 

Emily gapes, before snickering into her hand. “Spencer, not to hurt your feelings, but if we were ever in a bathtub together before I was incredibly drunk out of my mind-”

Spencer grins, then schools his face into a contained smile. Huh. “I meant the last time I told you a secret.” Oh. Huh. “My headaches? And how they were apparently psychosomatic?”

She remembers. Of course she does. Emily nods, feeling soberer by the second.

“I told you because I knew that you were hiding something too. I thought that maybe if I told you one of mine, you would think I was deserving of one of yours.” He looks her dead in the eye, and the unspoken is left in the air. That they are out of balance. 

Emily knows that Spencer and herself probably have some of the worst trust issues in the group. At least as bad as they can be in an entire group of some of the most fucked up individuals here. It’s honestly a joke. 

But he opened himself up to her then, allowing her to see him vulnerable and scared. He was right, he deserved to be allowed into her life as well. 

She shifts her legs over, opening up space for him to crowd his long legs into the tub again. It’s not even a secret- Hotch and Morgan already know she had been thinking about it. But Spencer would be the first to know she had made her mind up already. 

“I’m moving to Europe.” She closes her eyes, not wanting to see Spencer’s reaction so soon after. “Clyde gave me the position of Interpol Unit Chief in London, and I accepted.” 

She lets herself count to 1, 2, 3, before opening her eyes back up to see the person who’d grown into one her best friends. 

“So you are really taking this JJ getting married thing all the way, huh?” 

Emily guffawed. “You are the worst. It’s not that!” 

Spencer’s mirth grew affectionate. “That’s insane Emily. The real big shots, huh?” he chuckled. “I’m so happy for you. It’s an amazing opportunity.”

That was exactly what she needed to hear. Somehow it only makes leaving hurt worse. “Thank you, Spencer. I’m hap-” she cuts herself off before she can finish. She shouldn’t lie. “I’m a little torn on it.” She confesses instead. 

“Why then?” He said, somber, voice growing softer. “You just got back to us. You could stay. With us.”

Emily feels her heart tear. She wants to lie, to give him an answer to make him feel better. To wipe the sadness away and to wipe away the trauma of the past years. But he deserves the truth. She owes him and the others the truth. 

And she needs it too, she needs to say it out loud. To speak it into existence, like if this gnawing fear inside of her can just be cast out if she says it. 

“I don’t know.” Her eyes feel wet. Is she crying? “I don’t know and it makes me feel worse. I thought I was fixed when I took the job here, you know Spencer?” Through the glimmer in her eyes, she sees him wipe at his own face. “I thought that I had finally settled down somewhere, but every part of me after Doyle wants me to run. I thought I could stay here but I can’t. I just can’t. Even though I want to, so, so bad.

“It almost feels like I can’t control myself anymore. Or what I think, and- and if I can’t control me, or my thoughts then what is there, Spencer? I think about what could have happened if I had just never messed with Doyle before, or if I didn’t-” 

Spencer grabs her hand. “Emily, stop. Don’t blame yourself, ever for this. What happened to you with Doyle was trauma and probably the absolute most confusing kind.” She chuckles wetly. Definitely confusing. “It makes sense that you couldn’t stay here. That stuff doesn’t just go away.”

She looks at their joined hands and then up at him. “But all I want it to do is go away. All I want is to stay here with you guys and stop running for once, for once in my life. All I want is to feel better again.” She wipes a tear trickling down her throat and keeps his eye contact. 

Spencer purses his lip before continuing softly. “Emily… have you spoken to anyone about this?” 

Her breath catches for a second. “Of course.”

“Other than the BAU therapist? And past the mandated hours?” 

Damn. 

Spencer somehow looks more crushed. “You can’t bottle this stuff up. You can’t blame yourself for how your body feels, Em. This monster of a man almost killed you and robbed you of your life. All those memories connect to the BAU, and your body’s reaction is completely normal. But if you refuse to get that help you can’t move past it.”

Of course, he can say that. Because it’s not him, because it is not him that has to go to sleep every night praying that Declan is still safe, that Doyle’s colleagues won’t find you, and it’s not him that still enters her apartment clearing each room with her gun before she even takes her shoes off. Talking about it only helps her relive what she already does in the dark of her room every night. She won’t explain her unreasonable fears to someone else. She won’t burden someone else with the knowledge of what she did to finally catch Doyle. 

And even further, even deeper down? She doesn’t think she can find the strength in herself to confess that a part of her believes this is the cosmic payoff of the universe. A sin for a sin. She used Doyle, she used countless others and this is just the way that karma gets back to her. 

But looking into Spencer’s eyes, and holding his hand and feeling the warmth of someone else? Feeling safe in the ridiculous bathroom because her friend is with her right now, and feeling content despite the swirl of countless emotions in her stomach, the confusion the night brought her?

Spencer lets go of her hand, instead of wrapping a warm arm around her waist, pulling her close. “It’s not just for you,” he whispers. “It’s for me too. Because I’ll feel better about you 6,000 miles away if I know that for at least one night you talked about what’s been bothering you.” 

“We love you so much. No matter the choices you make, we will always support you. You could become an ax murderer and I’d probably be your getaway driver. But you need to let us in again. You need to let us see you, Em, even when you aren’t your best. Because that is what you have done for us. For me. Let us do that for you.” 

Maybe she can’t talk about it all just yet, but she sure as hell will try.

**Author's Note:**

> heeyyy im just a teen who wrote this in one sitting so tell me whats up in the comments. anyways I always felt like the writers of this show did the female characters so dirty all the time especially with dealing with their trauma. so I did it for them. stan emily prentiss for clear skin. also I'm new here so how do u do italics? also lets discuss jemily. its perfect and should have happened. no I will not be taking any constructive criticism on this


End file.
